20. Alexia
20
Alexia
T he library is a haven of quiet in my world of shadows and secrets. The polished wood shelves stretch up to the coffered ceiling, stacked with books whose spines are worn and faded, like they’ve been waiting decades for someone to pull them down and read their stories. Light filters through the tall windows, brushing the tops of the books. The scent of old leather lingers, wrapping around me as I pick a classic, Wuthering Heights .
Taking advantage of Rose’s nap time, I settle into one of the deep red leather armchairs, its cool, worn surface pressing against the lace of my black dress. The delicate fabric clings to my shoulders, hugging my frame as I sink back, letting the structured curves of the chair cradle me. I glance down at the novel in my lap. The heavy, old-fashioned pages contrast with the sleek, modern lines of my dress, a clash of worlds—like the clash in my own heart.
The room feels warm and comforting. For a few stolen moments, this is a place where I can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
My gaze falls to the page as I sink deeper into the chair and lose myself in the plot. Catherine and Heathcliff’s love story fits my life to a T, with their complicated history, filled with dark secrets and half-truths.
As absorbing as Emily Bront?’s writing is, my mind keeps wandering to Dave. The man is as much a fortress as this house. He’s built his walls from years of blood, betrayal, and power. But lately, he’s been letting me see beyond these defenses. I’ve caught glimpses of his softer side, which I’d forgotten he was capable of. I see it when his gaze lingers for a second too long. It’s clear in the quiet moments when he looks at me like a man who’s struggling to trust again.
The way I feel about Dave is dangerous. He pulls me in and makes me think that maybe I could lay everything bare. Then, I remember what’s at stake. If he finds out Rose is his daughter, that I’ve been hiding it all these years, how will he react?
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up, expecting to see Fran with an offer of tea or a tray of her addictive lemon biscuits. Instead, it’s Henry, the butler, standing in the doorway, his face as impassive as ever. But there’s something in his eyes, a hint of warmth that softens the lines around his mouth.
“Miss Alexia,” he begins, and his voice carries a note of discretion that only someone in his profession could perfect. “There’s a visitor for you.”
“A visitor?” I blink, setting the book down on the table beside the chair.
A flutter of uncertainty stirs in my chest. What visitor could I have in this isolated fortress?
Stepping into the room with a bright smile and wide eyes, my cousin Olivia shoos my worries away. In her own way, Olivia has always been the big sister I never had—checking in often, calling after every suspicious glance or whisper she overhears. Her brand of overprotectiveness has always been comforting. For her, I suppose, looking out for me has become second nature—maybe the only way she knows to stay close to the pieces of my life that Igor hasn’t shattered.
Her chestnut hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, framing a face that could be on the cover of any fashion magazine. She’s dressed in a deep, chocolate-brown satin dress that clings to her in all the right places, striking a balance between sophistication and allure. There’s a sharpness to her gaze, an almost feline intensity softened by the warmth of her smile.
“Oh my God! Liv!” I rush from the chair, my voice barely a murmur, but it’s enough to make her smile even brighter. In two strides, she’s in my arms, and we’re clinging to each other like two survivors at sea in a shipwreck. She smells like vanilla and fresh air, and it hits me with a wave of nostalgia. A funny reaction, considering it’s been less than a week since we last saw each other. I escaped Igor four days ago, but it feels like four centuries.
Her slender frame feels delicate, but there’s a hidden strength, too—a resilience that seems to radiate beneath her glamorous exterior. Her arms are surprisingly strong, and for a moment, I’m wrapped in the warmth of her, a reminder of simpler days.
She pulls back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes, a shade of smoky hazel, narrow with a flicker of worry as she looks me over, her brows drawing together in that familiar way that shows concern. Even dressed like she’s ready for a night out, Olivia exudes a fierce protectiveness, the kind you wouldn’t expect from someone with such a polished, almost ethereal beauty.
She murmurs, “Alexia, I swear, I’ve been calling you every ten minutes for days! I was getting nothing but voicemail, and now it’s full.”
I nod. “Dave’s got me a new number. He said my old one might’ve been too easy to track. Igor certainly keeps tabs on my calls.”
Olivia’s eyes flicker, a brief shadow crossing her face, but her smile returns as she gives my hand a squeeze.
I gesture to the leather chair across from me and we settle down.
“I got a taste of Dave’s protective instincts firsthand,” she says, her tone both amused and weary. “He called me this morning and sent a limo to pick me up. I swear, it was like a mobile cavern in there. Windows tinted so dark it might as well have been a blindfold. Plus, the number of men he packed around me…” She shakes her body in mockingly, wide-eyed terror. “I lost count at four.”
A laugh bubbles up in my chest, and some of the tension melts away. “It’s safer for you that way. The less you know about this place, the better.”
She grins. “Safer for me? And here I thought I was the one who should be worrying about you.” I spot a flicker of vulnerability in her expression. “You’re okay, right?”
I nod, but the words stick in my throat. Am I? I’m a woman who’s spent the last three days in a fortress, caught between the warmth of an old love and the icy edges of secrets that could break us all.
“I’m managing,” I say finally, squeezing her forearm. “Dave’s doing everything he can to keep me and Rose safe.”
Fran arrives with a tray, her timing impeccable. She sets the tray down gently, the soft clinking of the tea service breaking the quiet. The scent of fresh shortcakes wafts up, buttery and sweet, mingling with the faint hint of citrus from the iced tea. The library, despite its dark wooden shelves and leather furniture, feels lighter with Olivia here. But even this small, intimate moment carries an edge, a reminder of all the things I haven’t told her—or anyone.
I reach for my tea, the glass cold in my hand, a perfect contrast to the warmth in the summer air. Olivia leans forward, elbows on her knees, watching me intently. There’s that look in her eyes, a mix of curiosity and concern, the one she uses when she’s picking up on things I’d rather she didn’t.
“So,” she begins, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “Are you ever going to tell him?”
I look down, tracing the rim of my glass with a fingertip. “Tell him what?”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “Don’t play coy with me, Lex. Tell Dave about Rose.”
The name alone tightens my throat. Rose. I can see her in my mind as clearly as if she were here—those green eyes, so much like Martha’s, that mischievous little smile that lights up her whole face. My daughter. His daughter. A secret I’ve buried so deep it feels like a part of me now, like something I carry in my bones.
I take a sip of tea, letting the bitterness cut through the heaviness building in my chest. “It’s… complicated, Liv.”
“Of course it’s complicated,” she replies, exasperation lacing her words. “But don’t you think he deserves to know? To be honest, I think you’re missing an obvious point here.”
I frown and put my glass back on the table. “How do you mean?”
“Now that Dave has you back in his life, he won’t let you go again.”
My heart skips a couple of beats at that thought, but I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm the old ticker down. “I’m not so sure of that, Liv. It’s all too soon and I don’t want to create false expectations.”
While I speak, Olivia finishes her tea and pours an extra glass for herself, also refilling my glass.
“You serious right now? Dave has always been head-over-heels, crazy in love with you. Look at us now,” she says as she sweeps her free hand over the table for emphasis. “You guys are on the brink of war. But the man sends a small army in an armored car to bring your cousin here to have tea with you? Bet he’s trying to make you feel comfortable in this fortress.” She tilts her head, still holding my gaze, a smug grin illuminating her face. “Am I wrong?”
“You know you’re not.” I allow a reluctant smile to lift the right corner of my mouth. “In fact, this morning he asked me what I missed most from the outside world.”
She guffaws, pointing her perfectly manicured index finger to her chest, the bright red polish gleaming in the light streaming through the library windows. “Me? Little old me?”
“Love you too, silly!” I reply, reaching for a golden shortcake.
I take a bite, the soft texture melting in my mouth as I ponder her words. I gaze away at the tall bookshelves lining the walls, packed with volumes of secrets themselves. Trust is such a charged word, one that comes with a hefty price tag in Dave’s world. I’ve seen what he does to those who betray him. And yet, here I am, hiding the biggest truth of all.
“Lex, you’re only delaying the inevitable.” Olivia’s voice softens, and she reaches out, covering my hand with hers. “He’s not an idiot. He’ll find out eventually. And won’t it be better if the truth comes from you?”
She’s right, of course. Dave’s too smart to be left in the dark forever. But every time I get close to telling him, to opening that door, I freak out.
I give her hand a silent squeeze, grateful for her honesty. “I want to. God, you’ve no idea how much I want to. But telling him could destroy the fragile trust we’ve managed to rebuild. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
Olivia leans back, crossing her arms as she studies me, her expression thoughtful. “Alexia, sometimes we don’t get to be ready. Sometimes life just throws us into things, and we have to figure it out as we go.” Her voice softens, and I see a flicker of worry in her eyes. “He loves you, you know. Despite everything, he cares. He’s done more than most men would to keep you safe. Doesn’t that count for something?”
It counts for everything. That’s the problem. If he didn’t care, if he were still the cold, distant man I remembered, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. But he’s changed. He’s softer, somehow. And that scares me more than any danger from Igor. Because with every glance, every small touch, I feel myself slipping, losing the defenses I’ve kept up for so long.
I meet her gaze, drawn to the fierce determination in her eyes. “I know he cares. That’s what makes this so terrifying. If he finds out about Rose and turns against me, I don’t know that I can survive losing him again.”
Olivia’s hand tightens on mine, grounding me. “Then don’t let him find out from someone else. Give him the chance to understand, to make his own choices, Lex. He deserves that.”
A sharp knock interrupts us, and Jonathan’s figure fills the doorway. “Miss Olivia,” he says, his voice polite but firm. “It’s time.”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” My cousin rummages her Birkin bag and fishes out her cellphone. After unlocking the screen, she hands it to me. “Type in your new number, please.”
I do and return her phone as we stand up. “Thanks, cuz. It was great talking to you.”
Olivia pulls me into a tight hug, giving me one last lingering look. “You know what you have to do,” she whispers. “Take care of yourself, Lex. And do the right thing.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as she walks to the door, every step a reminder of the world I left behind and the new one closing in around me. As she disappears down the hallway, the weight of her words settles over me like a shroud.
Do the right thing.
But in this world, where lines blur between loyalty and betrayal, love and hate, right and wrong don’t come easy.
The library is too quiet now that Olivia is gone, the echo of her presence lingering. I let out a breath, sinking back into the plush leather of the armchair. The iced tea on the table has begun to sweat, a ring of condensation pooling beneath it, forgotten. Olivia’s words replay in my mind, tightening around my heart like a slowly winding rope. She told me to tell Dave like it were that easy.
I pick up the glass and take a sip, the cold liquid doing nothing to soothe the wildfire in my chest. Part of me believes that Dave would rather hear the truth about Rose from me than find out on his own. But that’s the part of me that remembers the warmth in his eyes when we’re alone, the way he looks at me now as if we’ve erased five years of distance and pain. I cling to that warmth, knowing full well that it’s a fragile illusion. If I tell him about Rose, what we’ve rebuilt might shatter completely.
But the secret won’t stay buried forever. Dave seems to be already suspicious, watching me with that calculated intensity. If he digs deep enough—and he will, because Dave doesn’t know how to stop when he’s got a mystery in his hands—he’ll find out on his own. And when he does… the fallout could be far worse. I close my eyes, gripping the glass tighter. I’m standing on the edge of a precipice.
Another thought slithers in, unbidden yet insistent. Igor. The man who’s woven himself like a poisonous thread through our lives. I’ve pieced together fragments enough to know what he has done. Igor’s dark secrets will finish him off, maybe even get him killed. The Syndicate is powerful and resourceful as well. If I give Dave enough hints about the extent of Igor’s betrayal, maybe the Syndicate would take Igor down.
I set the glass down, hands trembling as a fresh wave of emotions crashes over me. The thought of Dave going after Igor stirs something deeper—a protective instinct I can’t ignore. I know Dave can handle himself. He’s ruthless, calculated, and a force to be reckoned with. But if Igor’s reach is as deep as I suspect, even Dave could be caught in his web. And that terrifies me more than I want to admit.
I feel a warmth building in my chest, the kind of warmth I haven’t let myself feel in years. Love. That’s what this is. Despite everything, despite the secrets and the lies, I still love him. In fact, I’ve never stopped loving Dave. And that’s why this decision feels like a knife twisting in my gut—because to tell him about Rose, to bring him that close to the truth, means risking everything.
The clock on the wall ticks, each second a reminder that time is slipping through my fingers. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I’m not ready to tell him. Not yet. But the decision doesn’t sit easy with me. It festers, an ache that won’t go away, gnawing at me.
Olivia’s last words echo in my mind, a soft but relentless nudge. Do the right thing .
I push the thought aside, standing up and crossing to the window. Outside, the world is deceptively peaceful, the garden bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light. But beneath that calm lies a storm, one I can’t avoid forever. For now, all I can do is hope that when I finally tell Dave the truth, I’ll be strong enough to face the fallout.